


Blowout

by Gyakugire



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, alcohol mention, barber shop, idk - Freeform, smoking mention, this is really just trashy and self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyakugire/pseuds/Gyakugire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you think for a second that I’m going to let you walk out of my shop with that” a pointed look was given to the hair on his head, “then you’re dead fucking wrong.”</p>
<p>“Sit,” Mello repeats again, and this time, Matt’s laughing, running a hand through that shit fucking mess of hair. </p>
<p>“No, like, really, you don’t have to—“</p>
<p>“Trust me, Matt, it’s not for your sake.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blowout

“You sure this’s a good idea?” Near asks, half drunk with a tray of ice in one hand and a needle in the other. 

Matt blinked.

The hell kind of a question is that? 

He couldn’t even remember what he fucking looked up. Yeah, instructions. Maybe. On what? He shrugged it off. Couldn’t be that hard. Besides, Near’s a smart guy—he’d figure it out. 

Near tripped over his own feet on the way to the couch, one disaster away from either stabbing himself or throwing the ice all over the floor.

Near’s a smart guy.

He’d figure it out.

Matt takes a few extra shots just in case.

Tingling with a delightful numbness, he barely notices the cube of ice on the back of his ear. “Man, uh, wait,did we remembered to buy— _Shit!”_

The needle was in, through, and out, digging into the ice cube. 

“Shit. Shit, oh, _fuck_ ,” Matt hissed. “Fuck, we got a fucking earring, right?” 

Near’s head lazily rolls to the side. 

“Uh, we got a safety pin.” 

“Shit. _Shit_ , fucking give it to me, who cares,” he sputters, grasping for the thing with frantic, drunken hands. Okay, not his best idea. Not a great idea. Actually, a pretty fucking stupid idea, to be perfectly honest.

“Are you okay?” Near asks heavily, cleaning off the needle and swaying back and forth just enough for Matt to know he's drunk.

Matt nods, silent for the longest time. He gets up, shuffling into the bathroom to get a look at his ear.

He’ll have to buy an earring later.

That’s tomorrow’s problem.

He comes back into the living room, grinning like an idiot. Matt brushes his hair away from his other ear, throwing himself back onto the floor.

“Come on, uh, let’s do the other one.”

~

Eight piercings and five tattoos later, he’s enrolled at art school for illustration.  
Being a tattoo artist sounds cool as shit.

Art school fucking blows.

He gets three quarters of a semester in, and he flunks out. Not for him. He doesn’t give a rip about Renaissance history, liberal arts, seminars, all that shit.

He just wants to draw.

Whatever, at least it didn’t take him four years to figure it out.

He crashes in L’s basement for a few months, working at a shit coffee shop and applying for apprenticeships left and right.

He’s not bad at drawing.

Just doesn’t have any prior experience.

It’s three months of searching before he really finds anything, and he completely throws himself into it. He loves it, he adores it, the atmosphere,the people, the creativity.

For the first year, he’s there twelve hours a day. 

From there, he works at the shop full time. 

It’s really fucking awesome, and it’s in a great part of town. There’s a hair dressing salon across the street, a pizza shop, and a string of small businesses that line the street. 

A really fucking cool place to be.

~~

When he meets Mello, it’s out of a display of pity. 

He watches the blond fumbling to open the salon doors, coffee in one hand, and about five bags of God only knows what in the other. The key makes it into the lock, but his coffee makes it all over the front of his pure white shirt.

Not to mention it was fucking freezing out. 

Stupid. 

Hell, even from across the street he could hear the hair dresser swearing, trying to hold the soaked fabric as far away from his body as he could without completely removing it. The door swung open, he dragged his shit inside, and he slammed it shut. 

Maybe it was the pathetic circumstances of the situation, or maybe it was because the guy across the street was kind of hot, but Matt brewed a quick thing of coffee at the front desk, poured it into one of his spare mugs, and made his way across the street.

The blond was still fuming when he came in. 

“Hey,” Matt says from the doorway, and that makes Mello freeze in his tracks.

He must think the redhead’s a customer.

He’s scrambling, coffee still splashed all over himself, the floor a complete mess of footprints and cappuccino, and Matt’s watching with a silent amusement, eventually settling on just setting a clean pair of clothes and another coffee on the counter. 

That catches Mello’s attention.

Again, he’s just standing, then, he’s storming over to the counter. 

“The fuck’s this?” 

“I uh…” Oh, fuck, now he was nervous. Mello’s eyes were wide, frantic, kind of freaky. And his face was _sharp_ , irises standing out in sharp contrast. He swallowed thickly. “I work across the street.”

“And?”

Matt laughs. “I think it’s pretty self explanatory.”

“You saw that?” 

“Sorry, man.”

With a sigh, Mello unfolds the clothes, and he seems less than impressed, but he looks back up at Matt, and gives him a half smile. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem. Just bring ‘em back whenever.”

~~

His clothes fucking reek of smoke.

Mello can’t really complain. At least he has another shirt to change into. 

He hadn’t even heard Matt come into the door, and by the time he saw him, it scared the shit out of him. He already knew who the redhead was. Same kid that’s always outside smoking across the street, covered from head to toe in tattoos and piercings. 

He sips at his coffee. It’s black, way too fucking bitter, but he drinks it anyway in between clients. It was free, so he can’t really be picky. 

On his way out, Matt gives him a wave from the sidewalk, a familiar cigarette clutched between his fingers. Even they’re fucking covered in tattoos. 

Mello doesn’t smile, but he raises his hand in a wave, the least he can do, considering he’s wearing the other man’s clothes.

Matt’s probably not an idiot, but he doesn’t talk with a lot of confidence. Mello doesn’t worry himself about it.

He stops at the laundromat after he gets home, and washes Matt’s clothes to bring them back in the morning.

~

At eight thirty, Mello’s waiting outside his shop.

Matt’s hungover as shit, and Mello looks just as bleary eyed, clutching two cups of coffee in his hands. 

“Hey,” Matt rasps out, lighting a cigarette and sitting out with the blond. 

Mello wrinkles his nose, but he doesn’t say anything about the smoking. “Morning,” he grumbles back. “What’s goin’ on?” 

Mello shrugs. “Don’t like to owe anyone.” He doesn’t mention that Matt’s fucking hot, with freckles dusted across his face, hair sloppily died a rich auburn. He holds the coffee out, and Matt just stares at it.

“I didn’t think you owed me.” He doesn’t mention that it’s really fucking nice that Mello even thought of him. Too hungover to really smile, or make much of a show of it, he takes another drag from his cigarette.

The blond just hums. “Uhuh,” he grunts, and sips at his own drink. Mello holds the other coffee out until the tattoo artist takes it. 

“Oh. Uh…thanks.”

“Mhm,” Mello hums against the rim of his cup. 

He’s not too talkative, but Matt doesn’t mind. 

“Your name?”

“Matt.”

“Mello.”

“That’s cool.” 

“Think so?” 

“Sure.”

Matt lights another smoke, and Mello watches him put it between his lips, taking slow, full drags. 

He’s careless.

That’s fine.

Everyone is, in their own way. 

~

“Do you have a pen?” 

That voice. Mello doesn’t even look up. Keeps dividing the girl’s hair in front of him into even sections. 

“What?” He’s got bobby pins jammed in his mouth, and his words come out all muffled. 

“Uh…I _had_ a pen, but it died,” Matt admitted, scratching the back of his head while he leaned against the desk.

Dumb.

Mello sighs, plucking the things out of his mouth. “You mean to tell me…that you walked all the way across the street for a _pen_.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

Mumbling a near silent _holy shit_ under his breath, Mello still doesn't move. “There’s one on the desk over there. Help yourself.”

“Shit, thanks, man. You’re a life saver.”

When the bell chimes again and Matt’s out the door, the girl in his chair laughs. “That your friend?”  
“Over persistent acquaintance.”

“He’s cute.”

Mello hums, neither in agreement nor denial. 

“He comes by a lot?”

“Just for favors.” He mixes a few colors together, and sections her hair out again. 

“Sounds like a pain.”

“It’s fine. He’ll bring me coffee tomorrow.” 

She laughs. “You’ve worked out an arrangement?”

“Just kind of happens,” Mello admits with a shrug. 

He folds a few more foils into her hair, and takes a step back to grab another clip. 

“Seems like your type.”

“Mhm?” Mello grunts, putting another few scoops of dye in her hair. Maybe, maybe not. He lets his eyes make their way to the window, watching Matt chat with one of his coworkers outside of the shop. 

~

“Upping the caffeine lately?” Near asks from behind the counter, scrawling the redhead’s order lazily on the side of the cup. Doesn’t matter, everyone there already knows it. The next cup, though, he makes a little clearer.

“No, just for a friend.”

“You? Friends?” 

“Fuck off, man.”

“A lady?” Near hums, and Matt follows as he makes his way to the espresso machine.

“Nah, just the guy across the street.”

Near raises a brow. “Mello?”

“You know him?”

“He’s alright.” Near says with a shrug, “Never talked to him much.”

Matt’s grinning like an idiot, leaning into the counter separating the two of them. “He’s really cool.”

Near’s eyes glance up from the coffees, hands absentmindedly fumbling for lids. _Oh_ , his eyes seem to say. _That’s how it is, then_.

“Well,” Near hums, finishing the two drinks and sliding them towards Matt. “Hope it goes well.”

Matt doesn’t really know what the hell he’s talking about.

~~

Mello’s not really sure why the fuck Matt invited him to go to a show in the city, but he’s got nothing better to do, so he might as well. 

He zips up his leather jacket, and makes his way across the street. He’d never been in the tattoo parlor, but it was a bright place, with abstract paintings on the wall, a coffee bar, and a shit ton of wires on the ceiling. 

He’s tattooing a girl’s thigh when Mello makes his way into the back of the shop, a tray of different colored inks in front of him, gun in one hand and a paper towel in the other. Doesn’t even look up from his work, the bar of his piercing _just_ poking out between his lips.

He’d never noticed it before.

His eyes are fixated, and Matt slips it back into his mouth, smiling up at the blond before dipping the needle into the ink again.

“Hey, man.”

“Hey.”

“ ‘M almost done. Ten, fifteen minutes.”’  
“It’s cool.” _It’s cool_. Everything Mello says rings in his ears. Matt must not notice, because he’s tapping his feet on the ground, happily working away with the other man peering over his shoulder. 

“Can sit with me, if you want.”  
“Sure.”

“Excited for the show?” 

“Sure, haven’t been to one in a while.” 

The place is a mess, kids falling on each other in the middle of the pit. Matt gets right in there, and Mello’s on the sidelines, sipping at his beer as he watches the redhead.   
Mello’s not really sure if he has that much energy to him. 

But Matt’s fucking thrilled, and he comes bounding back over to Mello, raving about how fucking good the whole thing is. 

He probably didn’t even hear the music. That’s okay. Mello laughs, leaning against the bar while Matt falls into him, finally stabilizing himself with a hand on the blond’s waist and another on the small of his back. 

Matt’s laughing so hard that he doesn’t see the way Mello looks at him.

Probably, it’s better that way.

Mello’s bold, but he’s not _that_ bold, and for now, he’s content with just watching. 

~~

Matt’s gorgeous, but his hair looks like shit.

“The hell’d you let do that?” Mello sneered, disgust wavering plain in his voice. “I could be blind and still do a fuckin’ better job than that.”

Matt barks out a laugh. No shit. He hadn’t even remembered doing it. It was more of a morning after surprise, if anything. “I was slammed.”

Mello rolls his eyes. 

“Sit.”

“What? Man, I ain’t—“

A hand clamps down on his shoulder so fast that he jumps.

“If you think for a _second_ that I’m going to let you walk out of my shop with _that_ ” a pointed look was given to the hair on his head, “then you’re dead fucking wrong.”

“Sit,” Mello repeats again, and this time, Matt’s laughing, running a hand through that shit fucking mess of hair. 

“No, like, really, you don’t have to—“

“Trust me, Matt, it’s not for your sake.”

Mello pulls out a bowl, drapes the smock around Matt’s neck, and mixes enough to get that mess off of his head. 

The next time Matt looks in the mirror, his hair’s a starchy yellow. 

“You should shave the side,” he suggests, looking at Mello through the mirror and grinning. 

“Why?” Mello asks over the roar of the hair dryer.

“Dunno, think it’d be cool.”

He rolls his eyes. Fucking typical. “You just came up with that idea now.”

“Yeah,” Matt confirms, nodding a couple of times. 

“It’ll cost you.”

“And this won’t?”

“This is me helping myself.” 

The dryer turns off, and Mello’s mixing blue. He covers the tattoo artist’s roots first, working out to the ends. 

Matt shrugs. “I can, uh, give you a kiss. Left my wallet in the car,” he jokes.

Mello accidentally runs a streak of blue across Matt’s temple. 

“Jesus fucking shit, don’t _move_ , asshole!”

Matt already knows that he hadn’t budged an inch. 

His eyes flicked up, down Mello’s face, the curve of his lips. He pushed his tongue piercing past his teeth, letting it roll back and forth over his lips. 

Mello’s eyes lock on it.

He slips the thing back in his mouth. 

_Oh_. That’s what this is about.

~

Matt gets out of the chair with electric blue hair, a shaved side, and lavender highlights. 

“Come by sometime. I’ll draw somethin’ up for you.”

“Maybe.”

“Piercing?”

Mello laughs against the rim of his coffee. “I’ll think about it.”

“Well, think about it faster. Not getting any younger, y’know?” 

Mello’s eyes flick up to Matt’s eyes, down to the angel bites at his lips. 

Beautiful.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

Matt putts his coffee back down on the reception desk, and Mello follows suit. 

When he takes a step forward and leans in, Mello’s nose crinkles, eyes locked dangerously firm with Matt’s.

“Hey,” Mello whispers, and his eyes, piercing, frigid, are locked onto Matt’s. And his lips fucking _part_. Matt can catch a glimpse of his tongue against the back of his teeth.

He’s lovely.

“Hey,” Matt murmurs back, breath ghosting over Mello’s mouth.

Mello, for all his fire and energy, is surprisingly gentle. Their lips meet, and he’s _warm_. He inhales sharp through his nose, and his mouth works against his lips, parting ever so slightly.

Matt just about dies.

His tongue slips between his teeth, metal bar clicking against his lips and then the other man’s tongue.

It’s a polite kiss.

Kind of.

Polite, but in Mello’s mind, he’s rushing with thoughts of Matt and his fucking _tongue_ , that fucking metal ball that glides against him so fucking good.

When they break away, Mello’s panting, and Matt’s hard as all hell.

With hooded eyes, Mello lets his gaze drift over to Matt’s shop. 

“I’ll stop by tomorrow,” he says after another shaky breath.

~

It doesn’t really hit until Matt’s halfway across the street.

Mello wanted that. Mello _wanted_ that from him.

Mello. Pretty Mello, beautiful Mello, frigid Mello.

Mello _wanted_ him. 

It knocks the breath out of his lungs, and he holds his cigarette with shaking hands and a thudding heart. God, the damned thing’s in his fucking throat. He knows he’s smiling like a fucking idiot. Maybe, Mello is, too.

He feels stupid for thinking that.

Doesn’t make a difference, still feels the same way.

When he makes his way back into the shop with nicotine stained hands, he washes them for what feels like an eternity, completely zoned out and focused on the wall in front of him. When he snaps out of it, his hands are scalding hot, and he’s swearing, fumbling to shut the sink off and dry his hands. 

He thinks, maybe, he’ll ask Mello out on a date.

~

“Wait, really?” Matt shouts across the shop, bounding to the front before Mello’s even fully through the door. His hair’s tied in a sloppy bun, and he’s fucking dragging. Still, he gives Matt a half smile, letting his eyes crinkle shut.

“Long day?” 

“Prom season.” He cracks his back, and Matt slips behind him to press his thumbs against the knots in his shoulders. 

“What can I get for you? Coffee? Tea?” 

“Water.”

“ ‘Course.” 

Mello’s eyes trace the tattoos on his neck, up to the way it crept onto the beginning of his jawline. 

“Tattoo, or piercing?” Matt asks, sitting him down in a chair next to his piercing supplies. 

“Piercing.”

“Your dick?” 

Mello takes a swing at him and misses, not about to put in the effort to get up out of his seat. 

“Industrial.”

“You sure? I’d do your nipples for free.”

“Fuck _off_.”

Matt sterilizes everything, and marks a few dots on Mello’s ear.

“Ready?” He picked out something simple, that’d get the job done and would look good while Mello was waiting for it to heal. 

“Sure.”

It’s only a pinch, but Mello still hisses, nails digging into the fabric of his jeans. Shit. _Shit_. 

“Almost done.”

Another one, then the thing’s fucking in, and Matt’s getting up to clean everything off again.

“It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

“Fucking great.”

“I might be by next week,” Matt hummed, moving to rub at Mello’s shoulders again. It feels good, so he can’t complain. There’s a crick in his neck, and a knot between his shoulder blades. 

“Why?”

“I’m thinking pink would look good.”

“You _just_ dyed your hair.”  
“And?”

Mello just rolls his eyes, and leans back to smile at Matt. His ear’s already fucking throbbing. 

“What’re you doing tonight?” Matt hums. Mello’s really fucking good looking. His lips are a little bit chapped, but his mouth hangs open ever so slightly when he isn’t talking, flashing the bottoms of his teeth. He looks kinda mean but he’s really fuckin’ funny.

“Reading,” he says flatly. This week’s been dragging, and even though a night in sounded boring as all hell, he wasn’t about to let the opportunity to relax slip away.

“Come over for dinner.”

“What?”

“I was thinking of making something.”

Mello snorted. “Can you cook?” 

The tattoo artist shot him a flat look. “The fuck kind of a question is that?” he asks with a laugh. “Of course I fuckin’ can’t.”

Mello rolls his eyes, but he’s stifling a laugh. “If it goes to hell, we’ll just get pizza,” he suggests, and presses his lips together, hiding his teeth. 

“Cool.” Matt holds a mirror up, gingerly moving strands of hair out of the way so Mello can get a better look at his piercing. “Like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t have gotten it if it’d look like shit.”

Mello grins up at him, and Matt feels like a kid again. His chest’s heavy, and Mello’s eyes are bright, piercing, looking right through him. 

“Let me just close up the place.”  
“Uhuh.”

Matt tries to make them lasagna.

They end up with pizza. 

That’s fine, though. Mello didn’t actually come for the food. 

But it’s awkward as all hell, dodging around, trying not to get too close, trying to say the right things, look the right way, until finally, the blond’s mumbling “Sorry, but fuck this,” under his breath.

Matt thinks he’s going to leave.

Far from it. 

Mello turns on the couch, and in the blink of an eye, he’s pulling Matt forward, right into his fucking _lap,_ kissing with a ferocity that surprises the both of them. His tongue slips into Matt’s mouth, swirling around the redhead’s, pressing at his tongue piercing.

Matt thinks this must be a fucking fetish, for Mello to be so into it. 

He doesn’t mind. 

Mello lets Matt grab his ass, and he’s rocking their hips together. 

Neither of them are really sure why they don’t go much further, but hey, this is more than good enough for now. Matt presses sloppy kisses that are all tongue and teeth against Mello’s neck, and the blond thinks that hey, they should probably get dinner again sometime soon.

~

Matt gets his hair dyed every two weeks, and Mello’s coming in every month to let the tattoo artist add something onto him.

Industrial, belly button ring, and a microdermal, and he finally settles on a tattoo.

Mello’s lying frighteningly still on the table, his hands are the only thing even budging, and they’re fucking trembling.

This is about the point that he’s really wondering what the fuck he was thinking. 

It’s too late, because Matt’s got an outline on his chest and the tattoo gun is already going. 

“You okay?” 

“Uhuh.”

“You’re shaking.”

“No fucking shit.”

“It’s not so bad. Some people like it, y’know?”

Mello rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

It stings, like a cat scratch. But it could’ve been worse. Still doesn’t make it pleasant, but it’s bearable. Matt stops, eyes flicking up to the blond’s for approval. “Okay?”

“Yeah, keep going,” Mello breathes out. His nails are digging into his palm, and hey, Matt tells him, it’s just the outline. They’ll color it in another time.

It still takes two fucking hours. By then, Mello’s chest is throbbing, and his lungs feel like they’re going to explode from how little he’s been breathing. 

It’s red around the ink, but Matt puts something cool over it, wraps him up, and leads him over to the mirror to get a look at it. “Looks cool, right?” he hums, resting a chin on Mello’s shoulder.

Mello’s in awe, staring at the shapes drawn into his skin. Beautiful. Hurts like all hell, but Matt’s really fucking talented. 

He doesn’t have words. He tilts his head to the side, and presses a kiss to Matt’s cheek. 

~

Matt sits on the couch, and Mello comes padding out of the shower, towel draped around his neck. He catches Matt in a slow kiss, a warm hand smoothing down his arm.

“We’re fucking,” Mello breathes into their kiss, so bluntly and so quickly that Matt doesn’t even process it until hands fumbled with his jeans, popping the button open and ripping the zipper down so fast that the sound of it rang in his ears.

Manicured nails dragged down his jaw line, and across the line of his jugular. 

“ _Oh._ Okay. _Okay_ ,” he sputtered, not really sure if Mello’s even listening to him.  
There’s a hand around his cock and lips over his, coaxing out something that’s not quite a whimper and not quite a gasp.

“Suck me off,” Mello demands, his hands yanking at Matt’s hair as soon as he’s off of his lap. 

He laughs, still in a post orgasmic haze, and lets Mello switch their spots, collapsing onto the couch and dragging Matt down between his legs. 

When he goes down on him, Mello’s already throbbing he’s so fucking hard, fingers fisting at locks of Matt’s hair and forcing him down.

That fucking _tongue piercing_. 

It’s freezing cold and molten hot at the same time, the wetness of Matt’s tongue way too fucking good.

God, he’s already teetering on that edge. Matt goes down again, a little too deep and a little too hot, and Mello’s ripping his head back up, hissing and biting on his tongue to keep himself from coming. “ _Fuck me_ ,” he gasps out, and he already knows he won’t last that long. 

God damn it, it kills him that Matt can ruin him like this. 

And Matt’s quiet, awkward as all hell, but he runs his fingers down Mello’s thighs, then up, over the curve of his ass. He kisses the blond’s stomach, lips brushing against the line of hair beneath his navel. 

“I, uh, need something to, uh—“

“Other room,” Mello groans, and Matt’s only gone for a second, pressing the blond into the couch and dodging around the still angry red lines of his tattoo. It’s stinging, but Matt replaces the sensation with two fingers pushing into him, stretching, hot, dizzyingly arousing. 

Mello shuddering beneath him seems to give Matt a spurt of confidence, and he’s shoving his lover’s legs apart, digging _deeper_ , hitting a bundle of nerves inside of him that has him screaming out words that don’t even make sense. 

“You’re gonna come just from this?” Matt whispers, dipping down to flick his tongue against the shell of Mello’s ears. He can _feel_ Mello throb, his entire body tensing around him. 

Holy _shit_. Matt fists himself along, stroking himself with quick rotations of his wrist. Not that he really fucking needs it. Mello’s body is everything he needs and more, stunning, so fucking _sensitive_. 

“Piss _off_ ,” Mello moans, but Matt digs his fingers deeper again, down to his knuckles, and he’s sobbing out a whine. 

“Here,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out and leaving Mello agonizingly empty, pressing his length against him instead. “Let’s see how you look like this,” he teased, thrusting in a little too rough, a little too deep, with his lips against Mello’s throat. 

Mello doesn’t moan, but his breaths die in his throat, making a near silent, choking noise that hits Matt in the middle of his chest. 

Mello’s tight. Fuck, he’s really fucking tight. He rolls his hips forward, pushing all the way in, and that’s when he turns into a mess, toes curling, legs locking around Matt’s body. 

“ _Fuck_.”

Matt hits him just right, and Mello comes, his head pressed into the side of the couch and his fingers digging into the redhead’s back. Matt keeps going, finally pushed over his own edge when Mello tightens around him and sinks his teeth into his shoulder, breaking skin and jolting an electric line of adrenaline into his gut.

“That was, uh, that was, like, uh…thanks,” Matt breathes into Mello’s neck, and the blond is laughing, pushing him off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he laughs, breathless, staring up at Matt with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. “At least say something cute,” he grumbles, and Matt kisses him again, a smile twisting onto his lips.

~

Mello feels like a fucking idiot.

Too late now, he’s already crossing the street, a small box in his hand. A couple of smokes that his friend brought back with him from France. Mello knew he wouldn’t have them, so maybe Matt would be interested instead.

God, isn’t it awful that Matt’s the first thing he thinks of. 

His face is burning, he knows it is. 

He feels so fucking stupid.

When Matt smiles at him, Mello melts. 

Hasn’t felt this way since high school.

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s a mess.

He slides the box across the counter, as casually ash e can manage.

Mello knows his face and ears are turning red.

“What’s this for?” 

“Just, uh, picked it up the other day.”

“From where?”

Mello shrugs. 

Matt opens the box, and his eyes light up. “Cigars?” 

“They’re European.”

Matt pulls one of them out with careful fingers, rolling ti around in his hands. “Oh, chit, these look nice.”

“Yeah, heard they’re really good.”

“Wanna split one with me?” 

“I don’t smoke.”

“Don’t have to.”

Matt slips the bar through his lips again, and Mello’s heart just about stops. 

Matt’s so fucking beautiful.

Matt smokes most of the first cigar, and Mello takes a few puffs, crinkling his nose at the aftertaste. Whatever. As long as Matt likes it.

The redhead’s giddy, sitting beside him, He’s got his head on Mello’s shoulder, and the blond’s heart is in his throat.

He doesn’t know what the hell’s wrong with him. 

Matt slips his hand up to lace it with Mello’s, and they sit on the sidewalk during their lunch break, Matt smoking, and Mello picking at a tupperware container full of leftovers.

It’s nothing big, but it has Mello’s heart in his throat, rubbing his fingers against the dents of Matt’s knuckles while he watches the slow putter of traffic make its way down the street.

~~

“I’ve got, uh…” Matt flips his wallet open and peers inside of it. “Twenty bucks.”

“That’s enough for shit vodka.”

It fucking smells like gasoline. 

Matt makes mixed drinks, and Mello does shots. 

They’re both fucking plastered by four thirty in the afternoon. 

Mello doesn’t give a shit. The two of them lie sprawled out on the fire escape, hands linked, Matt smoking a cigarette and Mello decorating his throat in marks from his mouth. He covers him in purples and reds, until Matt’s snubbing the cigarette and moving to grab the sleeves of Mello’s shirt with nicotine stained fingers.

“Wanna fuck?” he rasps out, and Mello groans, before laughing like an idiot.

“Too drunk.”

“Let’s make pizza.”

“Nah.”

“Stargaze?” 

Mello laughs like an idiot and nods, dragging his boyfriend down the stairs and out into the parking lot. “We could’ve stayed on the fire escape.”

“Fuck that, air’s different down here.”

Matt knits his brows together, but he doesn’t say anything. Just laughs, and follows Mello over to his car. Doesn’t ask why the blond wants to sit on the roof, legs sprawled out in two different directions. He just jumps up with him, wrapping an arm around the other man’s waist. 

Mello falls asleep, and Matt ends up carrying him in, plopping him less than gracefully onto the bed before crawling in with him. 

~

“Matt,” he hears behind him, and fingers brush his hip bone, down jutting lines and across his stomach. Matt wakes up, still half drunk, swallowing thickly in acknowledgement of oncoming dehydration. 

Oh, _shit_.

He thrusts his hips into the rhythm of Mello’s hand, trying to get _more_ , something, anything. He tries to roll over, sucking in a shaky, frustrated breath when he’s held in place, Mello’s hips held flush against his ass. 

“Relax, babe,” he murmurs, breaths ghosting over his spine.

Holy fuck.

The sound ripped through his chest, and he felt himself fucking _throb_ in Mello’s hand.

Mello, thrusting against him more than intentionally, his erection pressed against him.

And he fucking _stops_. Oh, God, he fucking stops, and Matt’s chest is heaving, teeth biting down on his tongue and hips trembling where he’s held. 

“Look’t this,” Mello breaths out with a laugh, “You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he taunts.

All it takes is a few more pumps of his hand to ruin him.

He keeps trying to roll forward, and each time, Mello holds him back.

His hand clutches onto Mello’s wrist, lips begging “Please, fuck, Mel, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,”

_Christ_.

“What, Matt, babe?”

All he can do is shudder.

“C’mon, help me out.” His fingers ghost up Mello’s length.

“ _Please_.”

“Sorry”

“Oh my God, _please_.”

Matt figures that’s about close enough, because Matt sounds really fucking desperate, and he’s going to come himself if he’s not careful. He speeds up just enough, pulling Matt’s hips back to _really_ push the two of them together. And when Matt comes, Mello finds himself a panting, needy mess.

Oh, _shit_. 

Rutting against Matt’s ass, he comes, strands of white across his boyfriend’s lower back, leaving him gasping out Matt’s name against one of his shoulder blades. 

It’s made a mess of their sheets, but Mello doesn’t give a fuck. He watches Matt peel himself out of bed, wiping the mess off of himself and grumbling halfhearted insults under his breath. 

Still, after a glass of water, he gets back in bed, and lets Mello press back against him. 

~

Matt calls him from across the fucking street.

“ _What_.”

“Oh, hey. You’re not busy tonight, right?” 

“Depends.”

“On if my idea’s shit or not?”

Mello laughs through his nose. “Yeah.”  
“Wanna go skinny dipping?”

“Sober?”

Matt snorts on the other end of the line. “The fuck’re you talking about? Definitely not sober.”

“Sure.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, why the hell not?”

It’s the shittiest idea the two of them have had in a while. Gross comes as an understatement, and in the pitch black of night, the two of them have no idea what the fuck they’re jumping into. As soon as Mello feels the skin on his water, he regrets it. 

All things considered, it’s pretty shit. 

Its frigid, and he’s clinging to Matt, who can barely keep himself afloat on his own. 

“Oh my God, oh my God, I’m getting out.”

“I think I swallowed somethin’”

“Holy shit, man, that’s it. You’re fuckin’ dead.”

They pull themselves out of the water, wrapping themselves in towels that Mello brought from his shop, barely even drying themselves off before they got back in the car.

“That was fucking shit.”

Matt laughs, still more than drunk enough, and pulls his clothes on. He’s still soaked, and Melo’s not doing any better.

“I wanna shower.”

“Let’s catch the bus, we can hang at my place,” Mello says in between laughs. 

The water’s so shitty that fucking isn’t even on their mind. They take a shower, then sit on the couch, listening to shitty CD’s that Mello found under his bed. 

Matt’s laughing at how horrific some of the songs are, Mello’s mortified that he even had any of the damned things in the first place.

~

Mello likes to fuck with him.

Matt’s no better.

When he sees Mello unlocking the door to his shop, keys jingling as he rubs his eyes, he’s on his way out the door, shuffling his way across the street with lazy steps. Mello’s coffee in hand, he smiles at the warmth radiating through his fingers. 

And Mello, he doesn’t even notice until Matt’s face is near his ear, whispering a raspy “Good morning,” over his skin.

Mello inhales so sharply, spinning around so violently that he’s sure he’s about to have a heart attack.

“Don’t fucking _do that_!” He screams, nearly throwing his coffee back into Matt’s face when it’s handed to him.

Fucking stupid _asshole_.

His heart’s thudding in his ears, and he’s embarrassed, because Matt’s voice is raspy and quiet, and crawls under his skin just right. Lifeless as all hell.

That voice ruins him.

He gets him back three days later, massaging the back of Matt’s neck with freezing cold hands.

His scream is high pitched, and Mello laughs so hard that he cries, leaning against Matt’s shoulders for support.

“You’re a fuckin’ prick, y’know that?” Matt growled, shoving Mello away from him.

They end up making out in the back of the shop, Mello’s frigid hands making their way up Matt’s shirt, while the redhead whispers words so filthy that his face is burning a harsh pink.

Mello rips away from him, sputtering something about how he still had another client to take care of. That’s fine, Matt whispers. He can spend the rest of the day thinking of what they can do once the shop closes up.

Mello’s ears are burning, and he storms out of the shop, taking a walk to get himself a coffee to calm down. 

~~

They get coffee at nine in the evening on their way to the park. As soon as they’re out of the shop, Matt sneaks a little thing of bourbon out of his pocket and mixes it in.

Mello’s not even standing that close to him, and the smell burns his nostrils. 

“Bet that tastes like hell,” Mello snickers, but Matt’s sipping away at it, tonguing at the opening of the lid when he’s not drinking.

Mello wants to kiss him.

“Nah, it’s great.”

Mello snags the coffee from his hand, and takes a long swig.

“Tastes worse than hell.”

Matt grins at him, and the blond’s dragging him to the nearby liquor store to by his own.

One spiked coffee and two flasks later, Mello’s leaning into Matt on the bus to keep his footing, face in his shoulder and fingers hooked into his belt loops. 

Matt’s heart is pounding in his ears, leaping up in harsh beats into the back of his throat. When Mello smiles, his teeth are kind of crooked and his nose crunches up too much. He wraps an arm around his shoulders, the other hand clutched to the bar running along the roof of the bus. 

The bus stops short and Matt stumbles forward, Mello going with him. His head dips down and Mello straightens up, mashing their lips together in an uncoordinated sort of thing that tastes more like alcohol and drunken stupidity than a kiss. 

It’s fucking hot. 

For a city bus, maybe, Mello thinks he should tone it down, because their lips are working again each other rough, frantic, shooting that desire to just fucking _devour_ him down his spine. When he pulls back, gasping in a shaky breath, Matt’s lips are a delicious red, and he fucking _wants_ him.

Mello stumbles off the bus first, and Matt’s got a hand in the middle of his back, leading him to the door of his apartment. 

“Wanna come in?” Mello half slurs, half mumbles while he fumbles with the lock. Matt laughs, just as far gone, and presses a kiss to the back of Mello’s neck. He’s a fucking idiot, and instead of helping, he slams Mello’s front against the door, hips pressing into his ass. 

“Sure,” he rasps out, and it fucking rips Mello to pieces.

They don’t even make it inside. 

Key still halfway in the door, Mello pushes back, face pushed against the door and Matt’s hips grinding against him in a firm, circular motion that lets the blond feel every bit of him through his jeans. 

It’s intoxicating. 

His mouth moves, gaping, but no words come out. His hands don’t even think to push Matt away. Trashed, completely entranced by the man against him, he lets Matt slip his hands down to his paints, ripping them open and none too gently pulling him out. 

God, he’s already fucking hard.

“Matt. _Matt_ , _fucking shit_ ,” he gasps out, so loud that he’s sure the neighbors can probably hear. That sense of danger he’d usually have is completely gone. He moans, trying to thrust his hips into the movements of Matt’s hands, and everything’s moving so fucking _fast_ that he’s not really sure how anyone could make him feel this good.

Matt tears an orgasm from him, so quick and so harsh that he fucking _screams_ in the middle of the hall, nails curling against his hand and spilling himself all over Matt’s fingers and the fucking door.

It’s Matt, that ends up opening the door and shoving them back inside, dragging them into the shower with their lips locked and hands fumbling to take off clothes. It doesn’t occur to them really why they’re in the shower, but hot water feels really fucking good, and he lets Matt spread his legs and jam two slicked up fingers inside of him. 

The moans fucking _echo_.

The second time he comes, Matt’s fucking him, and he’s a sobbing mess in the shower, with Matt sitting on the porcelain floor and Mello crammed in on top of him. 

“I can’t. I _can’t_ again,” he’s gasping into the crook of Matt’s neck, jolting when Matt’s fingers dance down his spine. 

His eyes can’t really look anywhere for more than a split second, and Matt’s slouched against the wall without a bit of life to him, but the blond’s still fucking gorgeous. His other hand runs back up Mello’s length, and he fucking _whimpers._

“So fucking sensitive,” Matt whispers, and when he grabs, Mello’s making noises that shoot right fucking through him and down to his groin. 

When Matt’s spent, and Mello’s coming onto their stomachs, the blond’s left a shivering, drained mess, and his lover’s really not doing any better. 

Matt manages to turn the water off, but they both fall asleep on the shower floor.

~~

Mello wakes up damp, freezing cold, and sandwiched between the edge of the bathtub and Matt’s chest.

“What the _fuck,”_ he groans, head still spinning, and the noise is more than enough to wake Matt up.

He, though, is less graceful, shooting up at a speed that scares the shit out of Mello. His body twists around, eyes snapping to the blond. 

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Mello agrees, though maybe neither of them are really sure what they’re talking about.

They pick themselves up, and Matt turns the shower on again, pressed to the wall until the water heated up enough. 

It’s a silent fifteen minutes, with Matt trying to piece together exactly what the fuck had happened, and Mello prodding at the bites that decorated his hips. 

He remembers _everything_.

Mello kisses him slow, deep, prodding his mouth open and sucking on the other boy’s tongue, swirling his own around Matt’s. He’s hungover as all hell, and he’s starving. 

Not to mention his back’s fucking thrown out from his shit night’s sleep. 

He breaks the kiss, and runs his hand through damp hair. 

“Let’s go for breakfast.”

At the same coffee shop they always go to, they tuck themselves into the same side of a booth that has a torn cushion and ugly yellow filling. 

That’s fine. 

It takes Mello almost an hour to eat a few eggs, some bacon, and a couple of slices of toast, and Matt’s no better with the stack of pancakes in front of him. 

“We could see a movie.”

“With this hangover?”   
“Okay, fair enough.”

“Let’s get ice cream.”

“Sure, okay,” Matt hums, and watches Mello clink his teeth against the edge of his coffee cup. 

~~

Mello figures it wouldn’t be something overdramatic. 

It comes off his tongue easily, so he guesses he doesn’t mind. 

There’s no beating around the bush, and at this point, there’s no reason in even bothering with that. 

Mello’s locking up shop, and Matt’s smoking beside him. 

“Takin’ the bus home?” 

“Yeah.”  
“I’ll go with you.”

“You live in the opposite direction.”

Matt shrugs.

“And it’s freezing cold, go the fuck home.”

“Yeah, but like, uh…I don’t…”

Mello hates when he fucking mumbles. “What the fuck? Just spit it out.”

“Uhm, like, I thought you’d, I dunno.”

“ _What_ , Matt.”

“Like, do somethin’ for your birthday.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t know if you wanted to like—“

“Who told you?”

Matt only shrugs.

Difficult.

“I bought some fireworks. We could, like, shoot ‘em off and get cake and—“   
Before he can even finish the thought, Mello’s mashing their lips together despite the biting winter cold. Their noses are both red, and his lips are chapped, but Matt returns the gesture softly, grasping at Mello’s face with a gloved hand. 

In Mello’s apartment, rubbing their hands together to try and warm up even a second faster, Matt’s pressing icy kisses to Mello’s face, his lips tasting of ice cream and cigarettes. 

He always smells like a fucking ashtray..

Somehow, it’s endearing. 

“You have fun?” Mello murmured against his lips, curling up against him on the couch.

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t peg you as the kind of guy that was into birthdays.”

“ ‘M not. Fuckin’ hate em.”

Mello’s frowning, eyebrows knitted together. “What the fuck? Why did—“

Matt cuts him off with a sloppy kiss, running his hands down Mello’s sides.

“Uh, ‘cause I love you I think.”

“You _think_?”

“Always gotta keep ‘em on their toes.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Uhuh?”

“Love you, too.”

~~

“Y’know, they have those kind of shops in Europe where like, it’s a barber shop and a tattoo parlor,” Mello hums, wincing slightly when Matt brings the tattoo gun over his rib. 

“Sorry, it’s a tough spot,” he hummed, wiping away another smear of ink and blood. “Mel, they’ve got those here, too.”  
“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

It’s silent, mostly because Mello’s afraid of breathing too heavily or moving too much. 

When Matt finishes the outline, he lets Mello up for a break and gets him a cup of water. “Why?” Matt prods. And he has a feeling that he knows what it is, but Mello’s stubborn as all hell, and he’s not about to fuss up that he’s got an idea in the back of his head.

“No reason.”

Fucking brat.

“Are you making a business proposition?” Matt mumbles, a crooked smile making its way onto his face.

Mello snickers against the rim of his cup, but he doesn’t say no.

“Well, I don’t think it’d be a bad idea,” Matt admits. Not like they didn’t spend their breaks in each other’s places anyway. Plus, this’d cut down on rent. 

And Mello would be around.

Mello snorts. “Yeah, ’s long as you stop trying to do your own fucking hair.”

Matt’s heart swells, and he barely notices himself moving forward to press a kiss to the corner of Mello’s mouth.

“Deal.”

 


End file.
